What Is This Feeling
by petrelli heiress
Summary: Merlin/Arthur one-shot. Letters to mothers, searching for sweets in other people's mouths...he's still a prat though.


**What Is This Feeling?**

**Author's Note: This has been running amok in my head ever since I heard the Wicked song **_**What Is This Feeling **_**and Elphaba's 'Blonde' comment. Merlin/Arthur obviously. I like the fact that I have artistic license too. Spoilers for the first through fourth episodes. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin. **

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_Dear Mother,_

_So, I met the prince today. I do not see how such a...prat, because that's what he is, mother, will someday rule an entire kingdom. He was bullying a poor boy – yes, mother, the prince was indulging in such a cruel sport. So of course I stepped in. I won't go into details but suffice to say that he is a complete bastard. _

_And – you won't believe this one, mother – he's _blonde. _You know how I feel about _blondes_. Blonde _girls_ have never held my interest. Not that Arthur – that's his name – could be called, in any way, a blonde girl. Well, not to his face anyway. Or that he is in any way remotely attractive. Because he's not. Obviously. Prat. _

_Well, I saved his life, for all of this. And what do I get? Money? No, I get to be his manservant. His _manservant_, mother. I have to dress him, clean his – very dirty – room, and let him smack me around when he wants to practise fighting. Among many other myriad of horrible things. I persevere, of course. According to some dragon beneath the castle, Arthur and I are connected. I was destined to always be saving his scrawny neck. What joy. _

_What is this feeling, you may be asking yourself, mother? Loathing, pure unadulterated _loathing_. My pulse rushes, my head reels whenever he's near, from sheer hatred, obviously. It couldn't be anything else, could it, mother? His voice is horrible too. Yes, I know that's petty but it is. _

_Well, I should probably leave it there. Gaius is nice. He knows about my magic, even gave me a book of spells. It is much more informative than that dragon I mentioned. And there's this nice girl called Gwen. Mere friendship (no matter what certain people may now think) so don't get your hopes up, mother._

_Love, _

_Merlin_

***

Merlin tapped the quill against his chin. A lot had happened since his last letter. He was in a sickbed for one thing, thankfully only recovering from the poison rather than in the midst of experiencing its affects. He'd saved Arthur's life. Again. It was turning into an almost weekly occurrence.

This time, though, was different. Once he'd heard about the poisoned chalice, he'd rushed off, thinking only that he would save Arthur, not because some dragon said he should but because he _wanted _to. And then Arthur, almost without a second thought, had gone to find the flower that would cure him, against his father's wishes. He'd gone to such trouble for a lowly servant.

Of course he still loathed the guy. That wasn't going to change any time soon. Obviously.

The man himself entered the room then. Merlin glanced up, surprised. He hadn't expected Arthur to visit him again. Except possibly to remind him to get well because certain things were piling up and needed a thorough cleaning.

He was eating something, chewing it with gusto. He proffered a brown bag. "Want a sweet?" he asked, sitting down near Merlin. He threw the bag over to him without waiting for an answer.

Merlin opened the bag to find it empty. He glared at the prince, who smirked. "There's none left," he said, accusingly.

Arthur shook his head, his smirk widening. "Yes, there is," he said, pointing at his mouth. "And if you want it, you'll just have to come right over here and get it."

Continuing to glare, Merlin moved enough so that he was close enough to grasp the prince's face in his hands. "Fine, I will," he said, wondering what the hell he thought he was doing as he shoved his tongue into Arthur's mouth.

His tongue explored Arthur's mouth, searching for that tantalising sweet. It kept bumping up against it, pushing it further away. He growled and tried harder. Arthur's own tongue wasn't helping matters. It was in Merlin's own mouth and was obviously not searching for any sweets although it did a very good impression of one.

He felt Arthur swallow the sweet (hopefully unintentionally otherwise this would have been blatant teasing) and realised two things: Arthur had pressed him into the bed, was straddling him in fact; and that his pulse rushed with a strange exhilaration, his head reeled giddily and his face was flushed bright red.

Arthur seemed as surprised as he was. "Merlin," he said, his voice rough with desire, making shivers run up and down his spine. "What is this feeling?"

"Well..." Merlin frowned. "I _thought _it was loathing..."

Arthur chuckled. He held very still, feeling the sound throughout his entire body. "I highly doubt this is loathing. I don't know about you but I usually don't pin people I hate to their beds and trick them into kissing me."

Merlin glared up at him. "You _tricked_ me..."

The prince – _his _prince, he was starting to say silently – chuckled again. "I also don't go around asking people to shove their tongues in my mouth just to get the last sweet."

"I should hope not," Merlin huffed, folding his arms across his chest.

"Oh, come on," Arthur murmured in his ear. It _didn't _make him shiver deliciously. Well...maybe a little. "You enjoyed it too."

"No, I di--," Merlin began to say, obviously intending to refute everything, despite the very hard evidence against him when Arthur pressed their lips together, his tongue sliding between Merlin's suddenly very welcoming lips.

He gave up, gave in. It really was far too enjoyable to pass up.

Arthur was still a prat though.

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**Well. My first Merlin fic in awhile. **

**Review please. **


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